


Wise Heart

by Raaf



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Oral History, Rebuilding, tss2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raaf/pseuds/Raaf
Summary: A small exploration of Andreth’s experience in becoming a Wise-woman.
Relationships: Adanel & Andreth | Saelind
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Tolkien Secret Santa 2020





	Wise Heart

**Author's Note:**

> For theoppositeofprofound, in the Tolkien Secret Santa exchange 2020. Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! :)

Andreth had been named ‘patience’, and she earned it. If not quite in the way her parents had expected when they bestowed it on her. For though Andreth tended to quietness, this was out of a busy mind and not a still nature. As it was, she walked silently along with their small train of travellers, but was lost in thought. For a change, all of the party was quiet, without even travel songs. Even on the safer roads it was now held better to attract as little attention is possible. 

They were to visit her favourite uncle, Belemir. This was not unusual, but this visit would for Andreth specifically have a longer duration and a more purposeful intent. Andreth had set her heart on becoming one of the Wise. As Belemir had learned much from the Wise Bëor, and his wife Adanel was a Wise-woman in her own people’s tradition, Andreth would now have an opportunity to manage that.

* * *

The hearthfire had burned low into coals in the hall of her uncle’s house, casting a warm glow over the gathered guests. Andreth listened with rapt attention to the Wise-men and Wise-women. She had sometimes sat in similar gatherings back in Ladros, but even in her childhood the House of Bëor was too few and scattered for their Wise to meet on the same scale as her aunt’s fellows. The Marachian lore was like the Marachian branch of the Taliska tongue — strange to the ear, yet a closer acquaintance uncovered the same roots. Both the unfamiliar and the familiar lore was doubly fascinating for its new perspective.

Finally, it was Andreth’s turn. At Adanel’s encouraging nod, Andreth stood up and recited one of the pieces of lore she had learned as a child. Despite her pride at the moment, she couldn’t help but notice that, unlike the previous speakers, no-one offered assent or dissent. Of course, only Belemir would be able to do so for their people’s lore, and he apparently did not know the specific tale she had chosen. It was something she would have expected if she had thought about it, but now she was struck with what it meant.

Afterwards, Andreth asked of Adanel: “How do we measure knowledge when we have nothing to measure against?”

“I am sorry to say,” Adanel said heavily, “that winnowing truth is never simple. Weigh too strictly, and we lose the wheat along with the chaff. Weigh too lightly, and we keep the chaff along with the wheat. The mistakes are opposites, but will lead you no less wrong for it.”

“But then how are we to know when we are right?” Andreth asked uncertainly.

“Remember,” Adanel smiled reassuringly, “that it is the mark of wisdom to comprehend how much you do not know. We can do only our best, and keep a humble heart when we find ourselves mistaken.”

* * *

The bright Eldar stood out against the twilight as they moved soundlessly over the top of the snow. The House of Finarfin paid visits to their vassal Lord with some frequency — by Elvish standards that is. Lately, they also stopped to see Saelind, his daughter, as well. Andreth herself couldn’t comment with objectivity on whether she earned the name ‘wise-heart’, but she was nonetheless pleased that the Elves had honoured her with it.

The freedom the Elves enjoyed from the worst consequences of Death seemed wonderful to the Men, but there was another thing Andreth more personally envied of them: The Elves had perfect memories and even in death they would not be lost with them, but simply eventually be re-embodied in their Deathless lands. The only trouble Elves ever had in preserving histories lied in arguing about personal biases when finding the right people to interview. _They_ could never lose their store of wisdom, even if the Enemy were to kill every Elf in Beleriand.

The Elves’ constant assumption that they knew lore better was admittedly therefore not unwarranted, while still grating. As long as they remembered that advantage only applied to events they had been involved in. In other words, very little of Men’s own history. Which was not to say Andreth was unhappy at the Elves' arrival. Finrod, exceptionally of them, was as eager to learn as he was to teach, which had endeared his friendship greatly to Andreth.

Seeing how much the House of Marach had been able to preserve had sharpened Andreth’s pain at how much the House of Bëor had lost. For Men, the thread that was once cut could not be joined again. The lives lost in their hopeless war were already countless, yet the Enemy had always worked even harder to make them lose their souls and forget who they were.

They may not be able to escape the Shadow, but they could deny it the victory it truly wanted. ‘ _And we will_ ,’ Andreth promised herself. She comforted herself with the thought that at least she could restore their knowledge of that old lore which all Men shared in common. And if she found enough people who remembered fragments of their lore, then she could rebuild their own people’s knowledge as well.


End file.
